


After the Storm

by purple_cube



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna learns that despite the loss and the pain, life can be good again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for whiskeysnarker's request on Tumblr for Hayhanna and the lyrics "there will come a time you'll see with no more tears/And love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears".

 

 

The hospital wing proves to be a hub of information, where Johanna finds the staff more than willing to pass on the whispers that Coin halfheartedly attempts to reign in through fear of  _misinformation endangering the rebel cause_. She grins when the bubbly brunette on the morning shift tells her that the outskirts of the Capitol are in rebel hands. She laughs outright when even her surly doctor cracks a smile, informing her that the coming evening will see Thirteen’s soldiers advance towards Snow’s mansion. There’s little news on the Mockingjay and her team, but she presumes that that’s a good thing.

 

This is also how she hears about the bombings – from the tears and the screams of the medics who opted to stay behind. When Haymitch visits for the first time, she braces herself for further – and more personal – bad news.

 

His somber expression confirms it.

 

“Who did we lose?” she asks as he lowers himself into the plastic chair by her bed.

 

“Most of Squad 451, including Boggs. All of Callahan’s team and the majority of the primary strike force. Around half of our soldiers, basically.”

 

As callous as it is, she doesn’t care much for District Thirteen personnel – and Haymitch knows it. Which can only mean one thing – he’s preparing her for the one (or ones) that she will actually care about.

 

“Who else?” she whispers, now fearing the worst.

 

Her attention is fixed on the way his throat moves as he swallows, but even that fails to distract her from his next answer. “Finnick.”

 

The air rushes out of her lungs. Finnick, who in her eyes started this entire thing, is gone. The memories come to her in waves, from being a naïve eleven-year-old watching him win his Games to becoming the naïve sixteen-year-old who ignored his well-meaning plea to satisfy Snow’s demands. Finnick, who first whispered the word  _rebellion_  in her ear and made her truly believe in its power.

 

Haymitch leaves silently when the first tear falls, knowing that she won’t want him to witness this.

 

*

 

Two days pass before he shows up in the ward again.

 

“I’m going to the Capitol,” he says quietly. “The kids…they’re both in pretty bad shape after the bombings.”

 

“What makes you think you can help them?”

 

She hadn’t meant to be cruel, merely honest, but a flicker of hurt crosses his expression regardless.

 

“I can be there for them. In the way that someone should’ve been there for me.”

 

And though he doesn’t say it, she knows exactly which words he will have added to that sentence in his head.  _Someone should’ve been there for you too._

 

She hesitates for only a moment before pulling out her IV drip. Her morphling ration has dwindled now anyway to an amount where even she believes that she could be free of it. “I’m coming with you.”

 

He simply nods as if he had been expecting her reaction all along. “The hovercraft leaves in twenty minutes. There’s a change of clothes in the locker,” he adds, pointing to the small cupboard next to him.

 

*

 

She sees Katniss just once, reassured in the knowledge that her mother won’t leave her side. Peeta doesn’t have anyone but her and Haymitch, and through silent agreement they make sure that at least one of them will be there in case he wakes.

 

It turns out that they’re both present when he finally opens his eyes. His throat is still damaged, so she follows the doctors’ orders and insists that he listens rather than speaks. She tells him everything, not caring whether Haymitch is feigning sleep or not.

 

_District Seven is divided in two, just like Twelve was. Our Merchants include carpenters that supply the Capitol, but where I grew up everyone ended up working in the lumber mills. It was tough work, dangerous like your coal mines. We had a lot of accidents._

_My brother was four years younger than me. The year after I won would have been his first reaping. He was so proud of me for winning; he even said that he could’ve handled being chosen because he knew that I would be his mentor._

_My neighbor was reaped two years before me. He was seventeen, made it to the final four. Didn’t stand a chance against the Careers though – they wanted to make an example out of him, to show the rest of the districts that we’d never beat them._

_It took two years for Finnick to convince me that the rebels might be able to win. He wouldn’t tell me who else was involved, but I had my suspicions. It was only when he told me that District Thirteen was alive and well that I truly believed that we stood a chance._

_I still hear you in my dreams. Screaming, pleading, crying. You probably hear me too, right? That’s why I need you to get better. I need you to live, just like I have to live. We have to prove Snow wrong. We have to beat him._

 

*

 

When Katniss is moved to Coin’s temporary headquarters – the Presidential Palace of all places – Haymitch goes with her.

 

“Her mother’s grieving,” he explains to Johanna. “She’s not going to stick around for her.”

 

“What about Peeta?”

 

“He has you, doesn’t he?”

 

She wants to make a cynical comment, but something in Haymitch’s expression tells her that he would see right through it anyway.

 

“I thought it would be harder,” she says after a moment. “Letting people in…I thought it’d be harder to feel like this again.”

 

“That’s because you already let them in long ago,” he replies just as quietly. “You just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.”

 

“There’s a reason why mentoring tributes was so hard, no matter how cruel or uncaring you made yourself seem,” he adds after a while. “You didn’t want to care for them, but you couldn’t stop yourself. And you knew you would be sending them to their deaths every time.”

 

“Not  _every_  time,” she mumbles as she glances at Peeta’s sleeping form. Regardless, she understands his meaning. She spent many a drunken night in Finnick’s company, arguing that those who died in the arena had been the lucky ones. Not them. Not the ‘victors’.

 

*

 

Coin is responsible for bringing them together again.  _A vote for a final Hunger Games_. She doesn’t need to think long before casting her decision – though she is well aware of how much it is influenced by her hatred of Snow.

 

Nevertheless, it still surprises her that Katniss and Haymitch vote alongside her. She recognizes the glint in Abernathy’s eyes moments after the Mockingjay leaves the room.

 

She calls Peeta’s name, cutting short the tirade that he’s currently aiming at his former mentor. “Go after her.”

 

When he looks at her doubtfully, she tells him simply to trust her.

 

“Your instincts had better be right,” she mutters as she watches him leave.

 

Haymitch takes a long look at her before replying. “Haven’t been wrong in twenty-six years.”

 

And then Katniss fires her arrow into the wrong president, and the world descends into chaos once more.

 

*

 

Two weeks pass before she finally goes to him. He’s moved to the Training Center, supposedly to keep an eye on the way Katniss is being treated. Though she suspects that he could stomach living in the Presidential Palace about as much as she could.

 

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew what she was going to do.”

 

He picks up a tumbler with only dregs remaining, swirling it around before tipping the brown liquid into his mouth. His tired eyes flick towards her and then down to the table again. “She would never have voted yes in her sister’s name and meant it. She just wanted to keep Coin’s trust long enough to get the weapon in her hands. I didn’t know what she would do exactly, but I knew that there was more to her answer than the obvious.”

 

He pours another drink for himself, followed by one for her. She takes it and listens, not interrupting once as he tells her about the bombs and Coin and the youngest Everdeen girl. Slowly, the missing pieces of the puzzle fall into place, and she realizes that she can’t fault Katniss’s actions. Given the circumstances, she’s confident that she would have done exactly the same.

 

*

 

The trial lasts far longer than she expects, but the outcome is no surprise. This time, Haymitch comes to her.

 

“You’re going home, aren’t you?” she guesses, her voice emotionless.

 

“She doesn’t have anyone else,” he says with a shrug.

 

Several minutes pass before she tells him something that she has wanted to voice for a while now. “But you do.”

 

She crosses the space between them in swift steps, reaches up to hook her palm across the back of his neck and pulls him to her. He doesn’t resist when she presses her mouth to his – but his response isn’t exactly enthusiastic either.

 

Her body stiffens as she pulls away, and she steels herself for rejection.

 

Instead, he watches her carefully as he asks a simple question. “You sure this is what you want?”

 

She arches an eyebrow. “When have I ever done something I didn’t want?”

 

He huffs in amusement at her choice of words. “You haven’t. Not in the time I’ve known you,” he mutters as he leans in. His grip is strong on her hips as he pulls her to him. “I just need to know if I’m the band-aid or the morphling or –“

 

“Neither,” she interrupts quickly. “You’re…you’re not a quick fix,” she explains eventually. She’s been there enough times to recognize that this is more – more than she’s comfortable with, but she’s too far gone to back out now.

 

He whispers one final word against her lips, so close that she feels it more than she hears it. “Good.”

 

And then he’s kissing her, desperate and tentative, urgent and faltering, all at once. When it ends, he doesn’t try to hug her, but he does curl his fingers into the belt hooks of her pants, keeping her close. She ends up mirroring his actions, running her thumb lightly across the skin that lies just above the waistband.

 

“What made you change your mind?” he asks eventually.

 

“You.  _Your kids_ ,” she mimics in mock-exasperation. “Don’t know what it is about you people from Twelve. You just seem to crawl under my skin and stay there.”

 

He snorts, and she imagines that it’s a description he can relate to.

 

"You were right when you said that I had already let people in and just didn't want to admit it. Finnick, Peeta, you. I haven't changed my mind... I'm just admitting to what's always been there."

 

“You really think we can make this work?”

 

This time she doesn’t hesitate. “You and I helped start a fucking revolution, Abernathy. Of course we can make this work.”

 

His eyes crinkle with laughter. “I think you’re right.” 

 

She lets him go so that he can prepare for the journey, calling out her parting words when he opens the door to leave. "Don't be a stranger."

 

"I won't," he promises with one final smile.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

“Do you ever think about what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been reaped?”

 

Johanna looks up to see Peeta still gazing through the window at the artificial scenery, today giving a view of the sea. She remembers being surprised at his choice when she had first entered his hospital room, to which he had shrugged and replied that the forest that had been there previously reminded him too much of the Games.

 

“I used to,” she replies to his question. “All the time.”

 

“But you realized that it didn’t help?” he guesses.

 

“It doesn’t help,” she admits, looking at the scene too. “But that isn’t why I stopped thinking about it. After a while, you run out of all the possible scenarios of these better lives that you would have led. And then one day it hits you that _this_ life is the only one you’re gonna get, and that you might be better off trying to make it better instead of wishing for something you’ll never have.”

 

Peeta turns to look at her, his startlingly blue eyes matching the color of the synthetic sea that flickers behind him. “Is that why you joined the rebellion?”

 

“Amongst other things…yeah.”

 

“Other things?”

 

This time, she’s the one who has to look away as she replies. “Killing Snow. That was pretty high on the list of reasons to become a rebel.”

 

A long moment passes before he speaks again. “I can appreciate that.”

 

They talk about the future only when Dr. Aurelius begins to hint that Peeta might be allowed to leave soon. While he hadn’t relapsed as such, his display of violence against Coin’s guards on the night of her assassination had been enough for the doctors to voice their concerns and keep him confined for the duration of the trial. Now that Katniss and Haymitch have returned to Twelve, Johanna knows that she is his only visitor, spending much of the day in his private hospital room.

 

“What will you do in Seven?”

 

She shrugs. “See if my house is still standing, first of all. There are a few people in the district I kept in touch with over the years, so I want to check in on them. Mostly, I don’t know much about the state of the place, other than what we’ve seen on TV, and I’m not sure how much I can trust that. I guess that I just want to see it for myself.”

 

He nods. “Haymitch told me what to expect in Twelve before I left. Did you know everything was levelled except for Victors’ Village?”

 

She does – Katniss had told her so during one of their late night conversations back in Thirteen. “You sure you want to go back there?”

 

“It’s home,” he says simply.

 

She thinks about District Seven, about how even when she had nobody left, it was still her sanctuary from the Capitol and all of the horrors that Snow inflicted on her and the other victors there.

 

“Yeah. It is.”

 

*

 

They leave the Capitol on the same day, Peeta’s train leaving an hour before hers.

 

“You should visit us sometime,” he tells her with a warm smile as they approach the door to the carriage.

 

She doesn’t trust herself to answer, instead standing on the tips of her toes to pull him into a hug. “I’ll see you again, baker boy,” she whispers into his ear.

 

His arms tighten around her for a moment before he steps back. “See you soon, Jo.”

 

She waits until his train pulls away from the platform before turning and heading to the telephone booth, one of the few Capitol luxuries she is actually grateful for. The slip of paper that has lined the pocket of her jacket for the past month feels soft and worn as she unfolds it for the umpteenth time – even though it’s the first time that she’s dialing the number written on it.

 

He sounds tired when he finally answers, as if she’s woken him. “Abernathy.”

 

“It’s Johanna.”

 

There’s a pause before she receives a response, thankfully sounding more alert now. “Hi.”

 

“Hi yourself,” she says with a smile.

 

“How are you?”

 

“Better than you, from the sounds of it.”

 

He grunts, eliciting laughter from her.

 

“You interrupted my sleep.”

 

“Back to the usual schedule?” she asks, though not unkindly. She understands better than most how important it is to have a coping mechanism. _How important it is for people like us_.

 

“’Fraid so.” In her mind’s eye, she can see him shrug. “How ‘bout you?”

 

“I’m at the train station. Headed home.”

 

“Does that mean I should expect the boy back here soon?”

 

“You should,” she says in confirmation. “He set off just now.”

 

“Good. He’s needed.”

 

“By you or Katniss?”

 

His huff of laughter sounds distorted by the time it reaches her through the phone connection. “Her? Definitely. As for me, well, I won’t lie. I do miss his bread.”

 

_Thought you weren’t gonna lie_ , she thinks. But all she says aloud is, “Take care of him. He’s one of the few people in this world I can actually tolerate.”

 

 “I know the feeling.”

 

“And take care of yourself too,” she adds softly.

 

“Always have.”

 

She lets silence take over for a moment instead of replying. A farewell is on the tip of her tongue when he asks a question so quietly that she struggles to hear it fully.

 

“Am I going to be seeing you anytime soon?”

 

“Not yet,” she answers honestly. “But I’ll call.”

 

When he doesn’t respond, she whispers _bye_ and hangs up.

 

*

 

Her house _is_ still standing when she returns to Victors’ Village, and she tries to count the number of months that have passed since she last trudged up this hill and through those imposing iron gates. _Seven? Eight?_

 

She remembers leaving for the Capitol, for the Quell, fury and fear and excitement all vying for attention in her mind.

 

The rest is a haze. Being thrust into the Quell arena; the horrors and the alliances. The wrong hovercraft looming over her.

 

And the prison cell. She purposely makes sure that those memories remain blurred. While she’s awake, at any rate.

 

She remembers the countless times that she’s climbed the porch steps up to that familiar blue door.

 

But what _is_ new is that the house is occupied. Two sets of big, brown eyes stare up at her from the bottom step of the main staircase as she pushes the front door open. They can’t be older than five.

 

One of the girls opens her mouth wide and calls out. “Momma!”

 

Johanna has closed the door and dropped her bag to the floor by the time their mother appears from the kitchen, flustered and clearly shocked at the sight of their visitor. _Though technically, they’re my visitors._

 

“We didn’t know if you were coming back,” the woman starts to explain.

 

Johanna waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine,” she says, surprising even herself. She looks back at the girls, still staring at her wide eyes – and makes a resolution. “As long as there’s a bed for me, you can do what you like with the rest of the place. It was always too big for just me.”

 

One of the kids – the one that had called for her mother – pipes up. “We’re not allowed to play in the big bedroom. Is that one yours?”

 

“Guess so,” she mutters before stooping to pick up her bag once more. The girls shuffle to one end of the stop to let her through. She doesn’t stop or look back until she reaches the sanctuary of her old room and clicks the door shut behind her. The thin layer of dust that seems to cover every surface confirms that her house guests have indeed steered clear of this bedroom.

 

The temptation to slump to the floor is almost too much. Finnick was alive when she was last here.

 

Then again, so was Snow.

 

A knock on the door behind her back seems to reverberate through her entire body. Straightening, she lifts her shoulder from the wood and turns, reaching for the door handle.

 

She pulls the door open, but only by a crack. “What?”

 

“I wanted to apologize again, and to introduce myself properly.”

 

The mother looks more composed than she had done downstairs – even a little defiant. It makes Johanna smile. She has no intention of kicking them out – she meant what she had said – but she has to applaud the fact that this woman seems prepared to fight for her family should she need to.

 

“I don’t need the apology,” she replies curtly. “But I suppose a name would be useful.”

 

“Lena. My eldest daughter is Kia, and the youngest is Mae.”

 

“Johanna,” she replies simply, as if it wasn’t obvious already.

 

Lena gives her a small smile. “Thank you for letting us stay. And thank you for what you did during the war.”

 

She doesn’t want to think about what she did – what she went through – during the war.

 

“You’re welcome.” She starts to close the gap in the door to indicate that their conversation is over, but Lena holds her hand up to stop her.

 

“Blight was my cousin.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately. _Sorry that he died. Sorry that I couldn’t save him_.

 

Lena shrugs. “Wasn’t your fault. But what you said about him when you were in the arena stayed with me. _He wasn’t much, but he was from home_. I guess I hoped that you might feel the same about us. That you might consider helping us because of him.”

 

“I would’ve helped you anyway.”

 

“I know that now.”

 

The sound of clattering downstairs catches their attention, and Lena gives her an exasperated look. “Better get down there and see what those two are up to. Dinner will be ready at seven. I’ll cook and clean for you for as long as you let us stay, and I have friends who can provide game and fish from the woods. That alright with you?”

 

Johanna nods. “Works for me.”

 

“I’ll try and keep the kids out of your way too.” With that, Lena turns on her heel and heads towards the staircase.

 

Johanna sighs, looking behind her at the cold, sparse room before facing the hallway once more. Taking a deep breath, she follows her house guest, seemingly now her cook and housekeeper too, to the ground floor but turns right instead of left when she gets there. The study is empty, and she closes the door and makes her way to the telephone quickly.

 

Haymitch picks up midway through the second call tone.

 

“There are people living in my house,” she announces without preamble.

 

His gruff laughter echoes down the telephone line. When she closes her eyes, an image of his amused expression immediately forms in her mind, making her smile.

 

“You chuck ‘em out?”

 

“No. They offered to cook and clean, so I figured it was a fair deal.”

 

He laughs again. “Gone soft on me, Mason?”

 

“Told you, it’s you people from Twelve. You’re a bad influence on me.”

 

“Guess you’d fit in around here, then,” he says softly.

 

“Guess I would,” she agrees. “But I have a few loose ends I need to deal with here first.”

 

“Tell me about ‘em.”

 

So she does. And by the time she’s finished, she realizes why it had felt so right to come back here. Glancing at the clock, she says a hasty goodbye and promises to call him again soon before making her way to the dining room. The family is already seated around the table and the food is ready to be served.

 

But they’ve obviously been waiting for her.

 

“Thought you might like to carve,” Lena tells her as she holds the knife out for her to take.

 

The children look at her expectantly. She can’t remember the last time she did this. The game looks beautifully roasted, steam still rising enticingly from glistening skin. Her hand shakes as she grips the knife and glides the blade into the meat, close to the bone.

 

The eldest girl – _Kia?_ – holds her plate up. Her eyes widen as Johanna sets down the first piece.

 

“Momma never gives me a piece _this_ big,” she whispers.

 

Johanna grins. “Think you can eat all of it?”

 

Kia nods eagerly.

 

“Then knock yourself out, kid.”

 

The little sister tries to stifle a giggle – unsuccessfully. Johanna cuts a piece that is only marginally smaller for her, smiling at the even wider eyes that gaze up at her. Then she serves Lena and herself.

 

“Thanks,” she mutters as she begins to cut into her own serving.

 

Lena smiles. “Thank you, too.”

 

They eat in silence until their plates are half-empty. “Who’s in charge around here?” Johanna asks casually.

 

“Aster.”

 

It takes her a moment to place the name. “The mayor?”

Lena nods. “He allied with the rebels during the war. They voted him in as interim District Head until the local government is formed.”

 

Johanna shakes her head in disgust. “He was loyal to the Capitol, to Snow, for as long as I’ve known him. The only reason he would’ve sided with the rebels was to save his own skin.” She huffs in disgust. “And then the morons voted him in.”

 

“There’s no one around to stop him.” She gives Johanna a pointed look before continuing. “People around here just wanted the war to end. They didn’t care much who won. Most figured that nothing would really change in the end.”

 

“Well, it won’t if the same bast–“ 

 

Johanna stops herself, glancing at the children before looking back at Lena. But the mother doesn’t look overly concerned at her lapse, so she continues. “Nothing will change if the same people end up in charge.”

 

“Like I said, no one _was_ around to stop him. Maybe things will change now.”

 

Lena looks across the table again like she’s willing Johanna to understand the meaning behind her words.

 

Johanna takes in another mouthful, taking her time to chew and swallow before answering. “Maybe.”

 

 


End file.
